


the space between the molecules

by tardiself



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dream Sharing, F/M, dreams are being had, im just trying to make u cry honestly so be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardiself/pseuds/tardiself
Summary: All alone in her parallel world, Rose Tyler begins to have dreams. All alone in his world, the Doctor begins to dream, too.





	1. Chapter 1

She had expected to feel empty when he disappeared. Expected to feel a chasm in her ribcage, a hollowness in her stomach, a blankness in her mind. She expected to feel like a shell, caving in at any semblance of impact. After all, he was gone. He was gone for good, wouldn't - couldn't - come back. Her entire plan for the rest of her life had shown up on a beach, flickering like a ghost, said her name, and vanished into thin air. Unreachable. Unretrievable.

And yet, she was not empty, though she wished at times that she was. No, she was human. That's what he had said about her so often. It was strange... With everywhere she had been, everything she had seen, everything she had learned, she almost felt as though she were something else. But she was human, after all. Full of perfectly human love, still, she felt it rip her to shreds as she crumpled onto the sand. And for days and months later, she still felt him. Yes, she felt him seared onto her heart and growing in her lungs. But she felt him on the outside, too, pressing into every inch of her skin, pulling at the hands that longed to touch him just one more time.

She was not empty. She was overflowing.

"Rose," Mum came into her room one evening. "Rose, you've got to eat something. Your dad ordered dinner for us, aren't you hungry?"

She shook her head. She was too full to be hungry.

But Mum left her with the sandwich Dad had ordered for her, and she ate it for her parent's sakes. No chips, she noticed. Good. She might break down completely if she saw chips.

Then she slept. It seemed to be all she wanted to do lately. Her brain worked overtime, desperate to find some solution - some escape. Every day it was research and poking around and fighting and clawing to get back. And when she slept, she slept deeply and soundly. It was like what drinking was to some: it helped her forget.

Still, she caught glimpses of him in dreams sometimes. The tail of a tan trench coat disappearing around a corner. The sound of the screwdriver endlessly screaming at her from another room. Lately, the glimpses had been more painful. Flashes of brown eyes. Tips of his soft, feathery hair that stuck up on his head like he had either forgot to comb it or spent too much time doing so. The feeling of a hand that could only be his wrapping around hers, gripping until she felt her bones would break. She would try to squeeze back and wake to the pain of her nails digging to deeply into her palms.

She never saw him fully.

Never.

Never until that night.

It was a week after she hadn't had chips. She had nearly gotten in trouble for asking too many questions to a person who looked like they might have some answers. The dead ends had started to chip away at her piece by piece. Hope was a fragile thing.

Then she saw him standing in front of her in her dream. It was almost too real. She had to fight her brain telling her to wake up. It felt pain; something must be wrong. But it was a pain she couldn't stand to be without.

All around them was a London street, emptied by the dark of the night. A good view of the London Eye was just over the water. She remembered it well. It was where she and her first Doctor had walked once on their very first escapade, searching for where the Autons were hiding themselves away. And now, her Doctor - the Doctor she was the first to have ever seen - stood with his back to her. He leaned on folded arms over the wall and stared at the Eye.

She ran. The ground slipped under her feet. The world tilted, then steadied.

The Doctor seemed to notice this. His head perked up and he looked around.

She tried to shout his name. It came out in a muted whisper at the back of her throat, no matter how she forced it. It was still a dream, no matter how real it felt. But when she began to cry - to sob, really - that's when she could be heard. "Doctor. . ." It came out muted, but this time it was choked out by her own tears.

Nevertheless, the Doctor spun around. She saw his face - searching and bewildered - and sobbed again. He was looking right at her, and he couldn't see her.

"Rose?" he called, desperately.

"I'm here," she answered. She screamed it. "I'm right here! Right in front of you!"

"Rose, I can't hear you!" he screamed back. "Where are you?"

"Here!" she answered. But, of course, he still wouldn't be able to hear her. She tried again to move towards him, lifting one foot and planting it firmly in front of her. But the world spun and began to fold the minute her heel hit the ground. "No!" she cried. But it was too late. The Doctor was already fading, just as he had before.

"Rose!" He called for her one more time, before vanishing entirely.

And then she woke up.

Tears had soaked her pillows. It wasn't unusual. She often cried in her sleep. What was unusual was the way her head was spinning. Of course, it had to have just been a dream, but no dream had ever felt like that before. So real and unreal. But surely, it was just a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn't expected to feel so empty. Companions came and went all the time. Dying. Leaving. Being left. How was this different? How was it that ever since she faded from view, he felt like he had landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him without the lungs to take the next breath. For the first time, he felt fragile because of a human. Cracks were forming from the tips of his fingers creeping to both of his hearts. He felt prone to shattering, and he just wanted to touch her again. Companions came and went all the time. But not like this. Other companions weren't Rose.

No, he had never felt so empty. He was ready to implode.

He hadn't slept at all. He didn't have it in him to feel tired, and if he didn't keep moving he would collapse into himself. He was all adventures. All smiles. All saving the world. All the time. Why bother with this Earth? He found himself questioning this at darker points. Why even bother with the whole universe? Rose wasn't in it anymore.

He had to keep moving.

Had to keep running.

Martha made him sleep. Even after he insisted that Time Lords didn't need sleep like humans do.

"Time Lord or not, you're wearing yourself thin," she had countered. "Don't even need medical school to see that." Martha had a will of her own, and it won out eventually. He had noticed that he was slowing down, anyway.

A quick sleep was all he needed, he reasoned. Then he would be back up to his cheery, old self with a new place to go so he wouldn't have to think about her anymore. But how could he not think about her? Her room was right across from his.

When he was feeling brave, he would put his hand on the doorknob and stand there for a while. He would imagine that he could open the door to her room and she'd be right there listening to music (One Direction probably. She couldn't get enough of them after he took her to 2014.) When she heard the door open, she would look up at him and smile. Depending on the type of day it was, she would leap up and practically skip out the door to see where the TARDIS would take her. Other days, he would walk in and sit down on the bed and draw her into his arms, and there they would lie for hours just listening to music and whispering to each other. And then the doorknob would begin to feel like it was burning his skin, and he'd pull away, back in reality.

He had to sleep.

His dreams took him to the sidewalk by the Thames, the London Eye visible over the water. This was where he had first realized just how brilliant Rose really was. Well, fantastic was the word he would have used at the time. It was where he decided he wanted her for a companion. Of course, he hadn't realized then how he would grow to want her in different ways. Wanted her hand in his. Wanted to look at her while she wasn't watching. Wanted her with him all the time.

The world tilted. He hadn't moved at all. Something was tilting the world, and it wasn't him. His head perked up and looked around. There was no one nearby.

Then he heard it: someone crying. And he recognized her cry. But it couldn't be her. She was gone.

"Doctor. . ." she said.

And it was her. He knew it was, beyond all reason. His hearts pounded in his chest as he spun around, searching for her.

"Rose?" he called into the darkness of the night. His voice felt choked, near dying.

He listened for her. Tuned his ears to only hear her voice. "I'm here," her voice was quiet and broken, like she had gone under a bridge during a phone call. "I'm - here! - in front-"

In front? In front of what? He begged the universe to just let him see her. "Rose, I can't hear you!" he screamed. "Where are you?"

There was no answer. Nothing at all. Instead, the world began to spin and collapse.

No, no, no! He couldn't wake up now! She was there, and he felt her there, calling to him even though he couldn't hear it. "Rose!" he called, and he woke up. He had been calling her name in his sleep, he realized.

He ran his hand over his face for a moment, trying to soothe the pain he felt at having come so close. Then he leapt out of bed. Because if she could make his way into his dreams, there was a strong possibility she could find her way back.

Martha was in the console room, reading a book.

"Martha!" he called.

Martha looked up and her eyes widened. "You're in your jams."

"Yes," he replied. "And I'm likely to stay that way for a while. How do you fancy a trip home?"

"Why would I?" she answered. "Is something wrong?"

The Doctor managed a smile. "No, on the contrary! Everything has the possibility of being so very right. But I have an errand to run, first. I'll drop you off home and be back in, oh, ten seconds. Sound alright?"

Martha paused a minute. "What's going on? What's this about?"

The Doctor's smile fell. "I've seen Rose. Well, I heard her. And that means I can bring her back. Or at the very least, I can try."

A long silence from Martha. "She really means that much to you, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor answered.

Another silence. "Right," Martha sighed. "Be back in ten seconds, alright? Otherwise, you and I are going to have some words."


	3. Chapter 3

She was asleep again. It seemed she was asleep all the time now, and that was on purpose. She kept having dreams. And maybe that was all they were: dreams. But they felt so real, and they were the closest thing she had to actually being with him. Not that she had ever done any more than see him. Two words hadn't passed between them since the dreams started. Her voice was always blocked by something unable to be seen or felt, and he never saw her.

Oh, but every now and then he would speak to her.

"You were here, Rose, weren't you?" he would whisper to himself. "You were in my dream. You were right there. Where did you slip away to?"

"I'm right here," she would answer. "Why can't you see me?" Her voice was steady and low. He still didn't hear it.

She couldn't touch him either, she discovered. Anytime she tried to move towards him, the world crumbled all around her and she woke up. So she would sit, holding her knees to her chest, leaning against the wall as he paced back and forth. She did find some small comfort in being able to see him and hear him. She wondered if this was how the TARDIS felt sometimes. Unable to say a thing to him, but just loving him being there. She would wonder, and sigh, and rest her head on her knees.

This was how she sat as the Doctor moved frantically about. "She would know what to do. She always knew." he said. No, she didn't. She had no idea what to do now.

"C'mon. C'mon! What do I already know?" he asked himself aloud. "For one thing, it's always the Eye. Why? Why is it always the Eye? What's so special about it?"

"It's where I decided I wanted your life," Rose answered. "Whatever you were doing, I wanted a part of it."

The Doctor squinted at the wheel. "Is it the Autons? Is that it?" He pulled out his screwdriver. "Oh, you'd love this, Rose. I'm gonna do a scan for alien tech."

And, head still buried in her knees, Rose couldn't help but laugh, ever so quietly. The sound of the screwdriver never came, and for a frightening moment, she thought he disappeared. Just like he had on the beach. Her head shot up.

No, he was still there. But he was just standing, staring at her. Right at her. As though he actually saw her.

Slowly, she stood. His eyes followed hers. "Doctor?" she whispered, barely daring to hope.

"Hello," he said, almost cautiously.

Rose laughed, and she felt hot tears run down her face. "Hello," she answered. "Took you long enough."

The Doctor's face broke into a grin. "Rose Tyler." He laughed. "Oh, Rose, you brilliant human being."

He moved to take a step towards her.

"No, don't!" she instructed.

His foot fell back in place. "What's wrong?"

"Every time I try to walk toward you, the dream ends," Rose explained. "I don't want it to end this time. Not when you can finally see me. Not when I can finally talk to you."

The Doctor put his hands in his trouser pockets. "Right. I forgot. Things like that can be tricky in dreams."

Rose tilted her head to the side, and brushed the tears away. "What d'you mean? They're just dreams, aren't they?"

"Well, I hope not. Otherwise, I've just spent the past fourty-two hours asleep for nothing. No, Rose, dreams aren't just dreams, they're NEVER just dreams."

Rose furrowed her brows. "Come again?"

The Doctor squinted at his surroundings. "Dreams are a sort of pocket universe of their own. Another reality, fit snuggly inside yours. Sort of like a Russian nesting doll. The only difference is that this reality never had the proper amount of time to develop like your reality, so it relies entirely on human minds to exist. It feeds on your emotions, like fear and loneliness. That's why we haven't been able to see or talk to each other this whole time and why we disappear when we try to get closer. It's adapting itself to what our subconscious expects reality to be."

"But," Rose began, trying to process all he had just said. "When I wake up, everything I've said to you. . . you'll remember it when you wake up over in your universe? Just like a phone call? How is that possible?"

And here the Doctor frowned. "It's not. Well, it shouldn't be, anyway. As I said earlier, the dream plane of existence only exists inside your current universe. It doesn't leave, doesn't mix, doesn't travel. So, that leads us to the question: how can I see you now?"

This caused Rose to pause. "You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?" she questioned.

The Doctor's frown disappeared, replaced with a wide grin. "I don't know. Am I?"

Now, Rose's heart was pounding in her chest so she could hear it. "You're saying there might still be a way to get me?"

"It's very possible, and I promise you that I will take any chance I can find to bring you back home."

Rose felt her heart swell around the same time that the ground rumbled and shook. The Doctor looked up at the sky and furrowed his brows. "Right, that'll be the end of the dream, then."

Panic seized Rose and constricted her breathing for a brief moment. "Wait!" she said. "What if I don't see you again?"

The Doctor snapped his gaze back onto her. "What makes you think you won't?"

Rose shrugged, trying to ignore the thunder that was brewing in the distance. "I don't know," she admitted. "You just... You keep disappearing."

A brief silence passed as the Doctor looked up at the sky. Then, in a few calculated steps, he walked over to her and grabbed her hand, making her look into his dark eyes. Rose barely had time to process the feeling before he said. "Rose, I'm coming for you. Even if you never see me in a dream again, you'll see me soon in flesh and blood."

He took another glance at the sky and looked back down at her with an urgency. "Rose, I-"

And then she woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

He flinched when he woke up. The pain of separation hit him once again like he had run at a wall at top speed. It happened often. He would think of a new place to go that Rose would like, read something that would make her laugh, and forget that she wasn't there anymore. It was a pain he had been getting used to slowly. Ever so slowly. The constant sharpness of it fading to a dull ache with the occasional spike.

But now, everything was different.

Now, the pain was more acute, poisoned with that drop of hope that made it sting all the more. He had just spoken to Rose. Really spoken to her and hadn't imagined it. And now he was cut off from her again without any certainty of seeing her again soon.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he jumped out of bed. There was work to do. He ran to the console room like he was being chased by a Slitheen and immediately grabbed hold of a lever that he was fairly certain was just the ticket for what he needed. The TARDIS began recording coordinates, numbers and symbols showing up on the monitor in rapid succession as she floated through space.

He looked like a madman, dashing around the ship to do this and that. Set out feelers for inter-universal convergence. Program the TARDIS to alert him to oncoming telepathic fields. Get some instant-sleep-inducers at the ready in the event that he needed to see her again. Etc., etc. Things were almost in order.

On his final arrangement, he froze in his tracks. That pain came to him again, accompanied by doubt and fear. There was always a chance it wouldn't work, and he would never find the final bridge between her universe and his. In fact, though he would never admit it to anyone (least of all himself), it was improbable that he would find it. There was a ninety-nine point nine percent chance it would always be lost to him.

Oh, but that point one percent.

And so he persisted.

The work was taxing - dead end after dead end. Oh, there were weak spots aplenty. Places he could punch through and start a tear that would weave through both universes until they were both in shreds. Not an option. Exhaustion washed over him after a couple of days, and the desire to dream of Rose bubbled deep in his core. So, he retreated back to his room and promptly settled in to sleep.

She was there already, cross-legged on the ground, and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. When she saw him, she jumped up and started talking. At least, he assumed she was talking. Her mouth was moving, but he heard nothing.

"Rose, Rose!" he yelled as if that was going to help. "I can't hear you."

"What?" she mouthed.

He pointed to his ear. "Can't hear you," he said slowly.

Rose furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. "What? I can't hear you." This she said slow enough that he could read her lips.

Simultaneously, they seemed to realize the fruitlessness of the whole exchange, and they both clamped their jaws shut, eye-contact becoming the only available form of communication they could think of.

Rose mimed a pen across the palm of her hand. Can we write down what we wanna say? she was asking.

The Doctor shook his head. Letters didn't exist in dreams, that plane of reality wasn't advanced enough for them. Only cheap imitations would show through sometimes, and even then no one could read them.

Sign language came to the Doctor's mind. He was fluent in all Earth types of it. He felt a phrase forming on his right hand as his middle and ring fingers pressed into his palm while his index, little finger, and thumb pointed outwards. But he thought better of it. Rose didn't know sign language. Much less American Sign Language. Besides, that wasn't how he wanted to tell her the first time.

He whipped out the sonic and did a scan for plane stability and density. His side was more or less normal, if a bit squeezed from making room for the extra plane bits that were leaking out of Rose's parallel world. But hold on. . . Those leaky parallel plane bits were fluctuating.

He pocketed the screwdriver and looked at Rose. Just looked at her for a moment, memorized her. She was looking back at him with wide, hopeful, rich brown eyes. Such sad eyes, and yet she smiled at him.

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes burned. His hearts constricted. How could she be so brave? "Rose," he said, knowing she couldn't hear. "Rose, I'm coming back for you. I have an idea. I-" He stopped himself. No, that still wasn't how he wanted to tell her.

He forced himself awake.

Oh, he was thick. Miserably thick, almost beyond help. The obvious solution had been staring him in the face, and he hadn't seen it. The dream plane hadn't been feeding off of their expectations, it had been fluctuating based on his proximity to the parallel dimension. It was stronger, more vivd and real the closer he was to Rose.

And, well, the next part was almost too easy. All he had to do was match the times he was asleep with the coordinates, and narrow it down from there. He let an almost maniac laugh loose as he worked. He was so close to foiling the universe's plan. So close to getting Rose back and keeping her with him for as long as she would allow. And they were both so much closer to home.


End file.
